The Light Brigade
by NekoRy
Summary: Savage's team of covert operatives are specialists in their fields. Behind even The Light's back he has been gathering a small force to go under cover and counter the junior Justice Leaguers who have become small nuisances. ((Brood of Felony SYOC Rewrite))
1. Aquire

Savage can't contain the throaty chuckle that spills from his lips. Watching the latest success of the Justice League and their sidekicks for the past year has been more than a little entertaining. They cheer and present speeches, hold their heads up high, but they have no idea what will be coming their way soon enough.

Luthor likes to imagine it had been his idea. Savage allows him to believe so, for having too many alpha males vying for attention at once could be catastrophic. There is also the fact that Luthor's ego is far larger than Savage's current Sweden residence and stroking said ego allows Savage some fringe benefits not even Luthor knows of.

Flicking his eyes over to the grandfather clock Savage stirs his cup of tea idly. The creation of a team formed by young individuals with connections to the Light has been on his mind for quite a while. Truth be told, he'd already begun assembling the ideal team. Unlike the young Justice League group, full of awkward ragtag teens, his would be a well oiled factory powered by specialists. He's already collected four key components of his team right under Lex's large nose: a firearms specialist, the excellent tracker and an agent of espionage being led by the perfect tactician. He has others in mind, or course; the reluctant medic, the broken arsonist, the immune powerhouse from Gotham, and especially the Lord of Chaos in the making.

Yes, Savage has thought this through quite well.

Few members of the Light have been involved in the planning process, fewer outside of the Light. Nonetheless, Savage is not above asking the permission of the world's deadliest assassin for his protege. He might not be in league with the Light but Savage knows a worthy ally when he sees them. He also knows that in order to accomplish his goals he will require the aid of one who would rather chop his own head off then assist him. Perhaps, Savage thinks, he is a glutton for this kind of punishment.

Soft footfalls alert the leader of the Light to the presence of another in his home. One of his many.

He doesn't feel threatened in the least bit. In fact, Savage has been expecting the intruder for hours and if she hadn't wanted to be detected then there is no way he would have been able to sense her in the first place. She isn't late, by any means. In fact, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner of his study, she is perfectly prompt, as per usual.

"Please, come in. Make yourself at home," Savage drawls. He knows she won't but nevertheless, it is polite to offer ones home to ones esteemed guests.

She steps out of the shadows and into the warm light of the fireplace. Donning her civilian guise, a soft blue sweater that holds her lithe form just right, dark jeans and brown boots that give the impression she cares for fashion, his soldier marches toward him gracefully and with purpose. Like the true soldier she is, the girl gets down to one knee before her master and bows her head respectfully. Her long, auburn braid hits the floor, but she does not adjust herself, only remains in her position. As she should.

Yes, Savage thinks, this is the obedience he has come to admire. The respect he deserves.

"My lord," her monotonous voice pierces through the crackle of fire and raging storm, "We have located the individuals you requested."

"Good," Savage hums, elbows resting on the arms of his chair and fingers lacing together. "And the main priority?"

"Ravager and Fang have located him in Watership, sir."

"As i thought." Savage nods, unsurprised.

"How would you like us to proceed, sir?" the girl asks, predictably all business.

"Now, now, my dear girl, first I'd like you to rise. Please, have a seat and join me for a cup of tea," Savage implores the girl. She obeys, sitting opposite her leader and allowing him to pour her a warm cup of tea.

Savage isn't blind. He can clearly see the snow melting in her hair and clothing. Dear girl, when will she ever learn to wear a coat? Being the perfect host he is, Savage must warm the girl before she leaves, so as not to damage his property. Removing the blue coat from his body he stands to drape it over her form. She doesn't startle, but she does stare upon him with questioning eyes.

"It wouldn't bode well to allow the death of my commander," he comments nonchalantly before sipping regally at his porcelain cup. "Now tell me, has Luthor any idea about our operation."

"Of course not, sir." Her statement is cut short. The girl would probably be offended if she were capable of feeling anything.

"Can you be sure?" he asks, one brow raised. Savage has surprisingly strong faith in the girl. He does not believe she will steer him wrong, and he knows she is incapable of lying to him.

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Be sure it is kept that way."

The girl nods and sips at her tea gingerly. Her expression doesn't falter despite the utter bitterness he knows is there, but that is how he likes his tea: strong. Like his warriors.

They continue drinking in silence, Savage eating a few biscuits, before he speaks again. She can sense the question weighing in his mind but would never be so bold as to interrupt her leader from enjoying himself.

"Watership, eh?" he smirks a bit at the memory. "Have you ever been there?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. I take it you have?"

"Oh, yes. Once. It's been over a century since last I climbed those hills."

"It was not a pleasant visit?"

"Not exactly. I had a family obligation to see to, as I do this time as well."

Both finish with their drinks, Savage reclines and taps the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully.

"Will you be leaving for Watership instead of us then, sir?"

"Yes, I will attend to the business there. It is a personal matter. And there is something else I would like for you to see to," Savage says with a mischievous grin. He takes the ring from his right thumb and slowly slides it across the table. "This gem is quite intriguing, not to mention old. You see, there is a myth surrounding this particular item, as well as a few others. They say this ring was worn by Merlin himself."

Taking the ring into her small hands, both inhabiters of the room can feel the surge of power emanating from it. The band itself is pure gold and thick with inscriptions carved inside. They're in a forefinger language she's never seen or heard of before. The oval stone resting in a clawed grasp is white with black freckles at one rounded end and leading up one side. There's something magical about this ring.

"Apparently, this ring grants life. Upon Arthur's birth he had no breath. His mother could not bare to live in a world where her son could not and so she demanded a friend of hers, a magi, to give back the life the gods had wrongfully stolen. Despite knowing the manipulation of life and death to be a dark art her magi did so. He created a ring that, when worn, will strip its bearer of their life and trade it for the one whose name is whispered into it."

Although sitting straight and giving her full attention, the girl merely blinked at the story. Few believe in the existence of Camelot, but Savage knows better. He is millions of years old and has seen many a great king. Being in Arthur's presence had been a great honor. Serving as a knight at his Round Table had been far a greater honor.

"Doubt all you like, I still require you to take this ring," Savage says with a light chuckle.

Tilting her head ever so slightly the girls brows lower, her eyes cast down and making it known her train of thought had begun. "It is not in the power of the ring that I doubt, but in its creation," she almost whispers.

"Oh? Does the idea of sacrifice for love baffle you?" He wouldn't doubt that. The child hadn't exactly come from a nurturing home.

"Yes," she admits. "Why would one give their life for another? I do not see the purpose. What gain is there?"

"Perhaps," Savage muses, "you will one day discover the merit of sacrifice. But I believe for that to happen you would be required to remove your equipment."

Savage glances at her arms as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows. Fair skin, disrupted by dark veins and wires twisted together and protruding beneath her flesh. The metallic bulge in her wrists both light up with blue energy. There is more, of course. A protrusion clinging at the back of her neck to her spine, winding itself up and into her skull, canceling any signal to feel emotions. They release self made nanos into her system in order to keep her healthy and going.

"Such a pity," he sighs. "If I had known of your existence before Animo had gotten his hands on you perhaps I would have been able to assist you. Control you."

"I doubt that, sir. I was too young, too emotional. I would not have been able to control myself, I assure you. The thought of injuring you alone has me assured that this was the right course of action." In saying so she eases out her sleeves and returns her attention to the man sitting before her.

He regards her with utter fascination, eyes dancing with curiosity as he speaks, "still, if you ever feel the desire to have them removed, Professor Ivo is waiting and willing. He would simply adore getting a peek at the hardware that has been imbued within you."

"I will keep that in mind, sir."

Taking that as the perfect end to a quickly spiraling conversation Savage stands, holding his hand out for his guest to take. His fingers gently graze over the bit of machinery peeking out from her skin. He does love her obedience, immensely, and the fact that her emotionless state makes her the ideal commander, able to give and take orders with no qualms, only a strategic view. It is curious though, how she has existed for years with no evident faults to her system. He has to wonder...

Beneath flesh and bone does the heart beat? Beneath obedience and tact is there instinct? Beneath skill and self preservation can there be love?

To say his curiosity is piqued would be a severe understatement. He wants to know how the girl ticks, what keeps her going. Is she machine beneath tissue?

Savage does not want to know, he needs to know. But he can wait. Until she is prepared to allow him to or has passed on, Savage can wait. He has always been a patient man.

In any case, he has family matters to see to and a ring that requires hiding.

"This ring needs to be hidden, understand?"

She nods once in affirmation with a quiet but firm, "understood, sir."

"Tell no one of its location. Not even me. It could be a risk, you see. Few know I am currently in possession of this ring. If anyone were to ask where it is located I simply need inform them that I know not where the lost artifacts of Merlin lay buried."

"Suggesting Merlin has left others? Is that not dangerous?"

"It is, and I told him such. But Merlin was a bit arrogant, though the stories do not portray him accurately," Savage says with a light chuckle.

Savage sees the airship just outside his home along the trees circling his private home. His small team's current gathering area. Much too minuscule for a team to function out of, but Savage can easily fix that. He removes an envelope from his pocket, his emblem pressed firmly into a black seal melted onto the paper. The letters_ 'LB'_ are scrawled on in his handwriting.

"Take this," he says, handing it over to the girl. "You will find something worth the flight, trust me."

"Yes. Of course, Sir." She departs then, handing Savage his coat and heading toward her ship where he can make out the shape of a silhouette.

This would definitely be an interesting generation to live through, Savage muses. But he has other business to attend to. Business in a land called Watership he is all to familiar with.

* * *

**And with that I welcome you all back. I was planning on getting this out yesterday but thought, no, Black Friday seems more appropriate. Don't you think? In any case, you may notice starting the next chapter that the dynamics have been severely altered between some characters. Not to fret though, chums. I have a plan.**

**Hey! If anyone can tell me the big literary reference I used in this chapter, having read or watched it, and give me their favorite character from said reference and why, I will write the next side chapter for their character or any character of their choosing.**

**Happy belated Thanksgiving, and I'll see you back next week.**


	2. Bark and Bite

Obsidian watches the final exchange between her leader, Haywire, and their overall puppet master, Vandal Savage. One brow arches when he hands her something she can't make out due to the storm. He gets pretty close though, so she wonders if he's being a creeper. Haywire wouldn't really know the difference and Obsidian is in their airship, a pretty large distance from the-well-mansion for lack of better words, so she can't hear them either.

Haywire hands something to Savage, taken from around her shoulders. Must be his as she hadn't gone in with any cover.

"Obsidian," she states as a greeting once entering.

"Haywire," Obsidian says, taking a step back in order to allow the older girl in. She won't admit it aloud as she has been trained to filter her thoughts, but Obsidian isn't fully comfortable around her. While Obsidian doesn't often feel strong emotions, she does feel them and she allows them to fuel her when appropriate. The thought of a soldier physically, mentally and emotionally altered not to feel any pain bothers her greatly.

Yes, emotions can be a burden. Morals can cause you to hesitate. Love can be a hindrance. Max is fully aware of this, but she wouldn't trade her experiences in just to snuff out the... the... the humanity. At least she reasons that its humanity Ash lacks now.

She is fully aware that she is nothing more than a spy trained by the best and the worst the world has to offer. She has scars from failed missions, both physical and otherwise, but to cut off all ties from that life? To lose your memories, each precious and learning one, she could never do that. She isn't sure if that makes her brave or a coward, but peering into the dark eyes, the soulless eyes, of her commanding officer, Max is positive that she could never give into such a temptation.

Although she doesn't respect Ash any less for taking on Project SS, she reasons that she must have been very desperate to have signed off on the operation.

No matter what though, she knows Ash is her superior and treats her as such seeing as she could kill her with a single touch.

"So," Obsidian closes the hatch and returns to her seat, the left pilot. "Are there any further instructions on Watership?"

"Yes," Ash replies while taking out a folded piece of parchment from an envelope Obsidian can only assume is from Savage. "It seems Savage is prepared for the second phase."

"Phase 2? Already?" Obsidian will admit to being quite shocked whenever Savage commands them to do anything.

"Yes."

"Isn't it a bit soon for that? We were only assembled a little over a year ago. Just after the first records of the young Justice League. He can't think this is a good idea."

The shell known as Haywire barely spares her a glance before crumpling the parchment and caging it between her palms. The electricity crackles and shines from the edges of her flesh and lights a blue ring around her irises before disappearing. The flimsy paper has been singed and is unreadable when dumped into the waste bin kept near the center controls.

Haywire takes her seat on the right and brings up a holographic map. Between the beeping echoing in the ship and the sound of a jet taking flight Obsidian is left more than a little confused. It seems Savage is taking matters into his own hands.

The continent Haywire is enlarging is England. Specifically, Hampshire. There's a village called Kingsclere and just beyond that is Watership Down. The map itself gives no indication as to what the area looks like, but from what Obsidian has read it is green and breathtaking.

An icon is blinking in that area. A golden "R" representing the operative known as Ravager. Their sniper. Obsidian does not care for his role as assassin. She does not care for the idea of murder at all. Call it what you will: justice, revenge, orders. Taking a life is still just that and Obsidian - Max - does not partake in that particular act if she can help it.

"Ravager," Haywire's voice cuts into her thoughts.

There's another obnoxious beep and some static before the male voice Max recognizes as Ravager - Cameron - sighs and answers, "affirmative."

It's evident that he's tired. It probably has something to do with tracking someone nonstop and holding that position after having located his target after only nine days with a minimum of three hours' sleep a night, if that. Cameron is nothing if not a soldier though, and while the fact remains that he will probably have a messed up sleeping schedule for quite a while, he vigilantly obeyed his orders and follows through.

"Your mission is complete. Return to Genesis."

Another second of static and it's his voice again, "you sure, boss?"

"Affirmative. Someone else is heading there to bring the target in. You'll have a mission awaiting you after resting up."

"Understood. Ravager out."

Then there's another beep and the map minimizes into a much smaller square in the bottom left corner, where Obsidian is. A few seconds later there's a ringing sound and a black "F" stands out on the screen. When Haywire taps it image of a girl Obsidian's age pops up onscreen.

"Fang reporting," she says in that voice too gravelly and dangerous for a thirteen year old girl. " I got a message saying Phase 2?"

"Affirmative," Haywire responds. That was fast. "Have you located your desired target?"

"Yes," Fang grimaces. She looks like she wants to say something before shrinking into herself. Her long bangs almost hide her eyes but she straightens like she knows she's trying to hide and nods, repeating herself with more confidence.

"Finish your mission as quickly as possible and report back with your results. I'll be back as soon as I am through."

"You're going after someone as well?" Fang seems to perk up.

"Negative. I have another task Savage wants done."

"Oh," Eve groans.

It's a little humorous, Obsidian thinks. She doesn't know much about her small team as she was the last to join only five months ago after much convincing and bribing, but she has observed much. As far as she can tell Fang, or Evelynn, has some deep seeded respect or adoration for Haywire. It's kind of cute how her foul moods take a backseat when her precious Ash is present.

As for Ravager, well, he's alright, but he's quiet. He doesn't get in anyone's way and tries not to interject on their short and stilted conversations unless it is mission related.

They are all accomplished fighters despite their faults and quirks though and Obsidian feels privileged to have been handpicked to join the original squad of four.

"Alright. Good luck then, Haywire," Eve says with a final nod before ending the conversation. The map shows Eve to be to in New Mexico where her mission to find and annihilate some corrupt politician on holiday had taken place. The news tomorrow would probably say it was a coyote attack.

They aren't totally off.

Ash taps in coordinates that lead to the Indian Ocean and Max straps in, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Can I ask what your mission is?"

Ash turns to her a moment and resumes inputting data for something or other. Usually the hacker in Max would be delighted to be privy to any digital information but she is far too suspicious of the situation.

"You could," Ash answers and the engine roars to life by her command. "However I am not permitted to answer your queries."

"Oh. I understand." Max will not admit to being disappointed as they depart from Alaska.

The warm night air feels good against the mass of fur and muscles that is Fang. She runs through the desert, avoiding villages altogether on all fours. The coyotes she can smell from miles away flee when they pick up her sent in the wind. If they hadn't, well, her maw would be much bloodier than the amount given to her by a fat, stupid politician. In any case she feels good. Better than she has in years, since before her powers developed.

Her ears and nose pick up the sound and scent she's been searching for at least three more miles southwest. She's making good time. If it were any other mission she probably wouldn't be pushing herself so hard, hard enough to feel her adrenaline fading over burning muscles. But Fang couldn't care less about that. The pain feels good anyway. Makes her feel real. Let's her know just how alive she is.

What Fang is focused on is the scent of burning flesh somewhere nearby. There aren't any villages around for miles, just a small little hut she recognizes. It isn't Mexican but Native American in origin. And stolen to boot. Not surprising.

Fang stops short fifty feet of the hut, shadows cast from inside by the fire. There's screaming coming from inside and only someone like Fang would be able to hear the soft bored scoff beneath that. Someone is burning while another watches. Also not surprising.

The smell is horrid; she's never liked burning flesh. Or really anything burning. Or fleshy. In fact Fang is now a vegetarian no matter how much blood her fur is covered in.

It takes a while but the sound of a man suffering dies down around the forty-third time she's circled the perimeter. She shifts before entering, black fur collapsing and making room for scarred, creamy flesh, pupils dilating, ears shrinking, dulling and relocating from their pointed positions atop her head to the sides of her face. Her fangs blunt themselves and her muzzle draws back into a small, delicate nose on the face of a young girl who would look absolutely lovely were she not wearing a permanent snarl... And if she put on some clothes.

Fang is left behind in fur blown away by wind and Evelynn takes her place, stalking up to what she can scent as the deer-skin covered "home". When she tears open the flap, almost ripping the entire thing down, she flinches at the heavy bear skin thrown at her.

"You're always naked. Why can't you ever put some fucking clothes on?" the deep rasp cusses and berates from a darkened area of the circular "room".

The body is bare of anything relatively considered tissue in the fireplace at the center as it sinks into the dirt and wood, a skull with a single brown eye peering up at its murderer. The male in questioning draws back into his makeshift throne made of animal skins and thick bones and he steps on the skull with a bare foot. Of course, he isn't nearly as afraid of the flames as the person in it had been for when he waves his hand the flame flickers brightly before fading and leaving them in barely lit quarters. Evelynn steps away from the flame.

"Kale," Evelynn greets rather cheerfully for someone whose been given a dead animal's hide. "How are you?"

"Clothed, for one," he drawls. It's probably been a while since he's seen another living thing that he hasn't considered dinner. Or fire fodder.

"And who is your guest?" Eve questions as she toes at what she thinks is a stray metacarpal.

"ELÍAS Vicario," Kale answers, words perfectly accented. "_Father_ ELÍAS Vicario: serial rapist. Thought no one would realize."

"He never suspected you'd be around at the right time."

Kale glances up at her, his mocha eyes practically gleaming like stars even in the darkness. Eve only smiles while wrapping the brown fur tighter around herself and making her way over to sit beside her old friend.

"I'm surprised to see you," he mumbles.

"Well that's what happens when you try to hide from me," she grumbles, laying her head on his lap.

There's a long pause where the only sound that Eve can pick up is the crackling fire, coyote calls, snakes hissing and wind stirring. Then Kale's calloused hand his stroking her head and Eve feels a bit childish for enjoying it.

"I'm not interested," Kale says before Evelynn can even try and convince him otherwise.

She huffs and growls at him, "we need you."

"You seem to be doing fine on your own," Kale scoffs.

"That doesn't mean I don't need you, idiot!" Evelynn glares up at him, a low growl rumbling deep in her throat.

Kale isn't remotely impressed and instead of drawing away from the beast he flicks her nose and scoots closer, lowering his head until they are nose to nose.

"Your little puppy whimpers don't fool me, mutt," he says mockingly. "I made you what you are. I can burn you up just as easily."

"But you won't."

They stare one another down but Kale breaks the tension with a smirk.

"You said _'we'_, but no one on that team needs me," Kale states. He leans back in the low chair and closes his eyes. "You've tried so many times to get me on board and they haven't worked before. What makes you thi-"

"She remembers!" Evelynn growls. There's a whine just beneath it all.

"That isn't possible."

"Isn't it though?" Evelynn takes the older teens hand in her own and nuzzles it lightly. "Didn't you tell me when you found me? Anything is possible, Kale. For people like us all doors are open. And if they aren't we kick and burn them down. Why can't you just burn this one too?"

Evelynn is desperate and wants it to be known.

In all her life shed been met with misfortune. Her parents dying in a fire, cursed to live an animal's life in a foreign land, beaten and starved. In all that time, in her very short and long life, Evelynn has only ever trusted two people. The two people who discovered her. Kale had been one of them. He'd found her haunting a town in England, crazed and deprived. They'd been ordered to kill her. But they didn't.

Sometimes Eve thinks they should have. Sometimes when her scars ache and she runs her fingers over bruises that no longer reveal themselves to the world, she remembers darkness and laughter and she wishes she'd never been brought into a world that allowed such a small girl to suffer so much.

But she is alive. Alive with another broken family she needs to fix. And this is how she goes about it. Growling and whining and making demands.

"Kale," Evelynn says softly. "I know it hurts you. I know part of you hates her. But I need you. I can't be there alone anymore. I-I can't help but hate her a little too. And I miss you."

Kale's eyes stare coldly into his ex-protégé's. There's a flicker of something almost human in them but it's gone in an instant.

"Being out here, all alone like this? It isn't healthy. You need us just as much as we need you. We all deserve some healing, Kale."

With a smile softer than any she's seen him produce Kale tucks a long strand of tangled hair behind Eve's ear. She smiles and Kale's expression goes dark once more before uttering a simple "no" in finality.

* * *

**This chapter wasgoing to be a lot longer but I decided to cut some of the more confusing things I added out and to just chop it in half altogether. It was also supposed to be up onChristmas Evenight...Oops?**

**I'll add warnings and time stamps later, when I get the chance. But anyway, I hope everyone enjoys some old facesanda new one. I'll try to get the next one up the week after New Years.**

**One last thing. If anyone is interested in a Harry Potter next gen. syoc you should look out for Welcome to the New Age which I am cowriting with the most perfect partner, MaliceArchangela. -Shameless advertising**


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